


Save You Saving Me

by aleski525



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Choking, F/M, Hair-pulling, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-13 12:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4521180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleski525/pseuds/aleski525
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love and hate are seldom far off from each other. When the Inquisition captures Samson things don't go exactly as the Inquisitor had initially intended. She's hell bent on saving him and his red templars, but in the end, it just might be her that needs the saving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Inquisitor referenced in this work is Rachel Trevelyan. This takes place in an AU from her main storyline, although she does spare and on some level save Samson their relationship in that line is not an intimate one.

“Cullen leave us,” Rachel said sternly, her eyes not leaving the dying tranquil.

“Inquisitor?” Cullen stammered, shocked by the statement.

“That is an order Commander.” She replied simply. When he was gone she kneeled down beside the dying man. “Maddox please, I want to help Samson, I want to help your friend. I can’t do that without you, tell me where the antidote is. We will patch you up and then we’ll help Samson.”

“You will kill him” The tranquil replied, his tone void of all emotion.

“I will not. I will show him mercy, far more than the Elder One will. Corepheyus will kill him for certain, either with the red Lyrium or with his own hands. I will spare Samson’s life, he will not come to harm under me, I swear it to you.”

“I will not betray my friend”

“No, you will save him” she replied, her hand gentle on his shoulder, eyes never leaving his.

“The far desk in the right corner. Second drawer down has a false bottom. The yellow vial.” Maddox replied at last. Rachel rushed over, found the liquid and poured it down the man’s throat. He revealed Samson’s plans and whereabouts before he seized and lost consciousness. The Inquisition descended upon and captured Samson a week later, returning with him to Skyhold. The Inquisitor had been delayed in her return from the area they had captured him in and when she returned it was to the chastisement of Maddox. “You said you would show him mercy. You said he would not come to harm. You have lied. You are not helping him”.

She didn’t even need to ask whom he was talking about “When is he?”

“The dungeons”

The Maker couldn’t have moved her faster if he’d given her wings. She was furious; she’d given specific instructions on how the former Templar was to be treated. When she reached the dungeons there was nobody on duty and the door opened with ease. She saw why immediately. In the far cell Samson lay shivering in a pile of his own vomit. Lyrium withdrawal alone was brutal, but this was inhumane. Rachel let out a roar for the guards but nobody came. She grabbed a nearby rock and wailed away on his cell door’s lock until it cracked and swung open. He looked up weakly from his spot on the ground; a ghost of the fierce warrior she’d fought two weeks ago. She was hoisting the man up, supporting his frame at the waist and helping him to walk when the guards came in. They stood attention upon recognizing her “Inquisitor” they stuttered. 

“Get Lyrium, 6 vials and bring them to my chambers.” When the recruits hesitated she snapped at them and sent them running for the mage’s storerooms. 

Rachel didn’t go through the main hall; she took the back stair to her chambers and settled him on the couch. “Are you sure you want a dirty smelly prisoner on your furniture?” he asked sarcastically fighting the painful shaking in his limbs and voice. She ignored the question and yanked the down comforter off of her bed and wrapped it around his feverish body. Boots came pounding up the stairs as the recruits came with half a dozen vials of blue Lyrium. “Give me one,” she said holding out her hand “put the others on the desk and leave. Don’t let anyone up here, I am not to be disturbed under any circumstances.” When they didn’t move she glared. That got them going. Samson would have laughed if he could have focused on anything but the vial of Lyrium in her hand. As soon as the door shut she uncapped it and tilted his head back. Carefully she let the blue liquid slide into his mouth, down his throat at just the right pace. Not fast enough to choke him, not so slow that it was torture. 

Samson shuddered as he felt it spread through his body easing the nausea and piercing in his skull. He felt his eyelids grow heavy and sleep come upon him. The next time he woke the light outside the windows was fading. The room he was in smelled like fresh mountains cold air. He looked over and saw her, painted in sunset pinks and Lyrium blue she looked like an angel from a fever dream. She padded over to him with another vial and this time gave him only half, enough for him to regain his senses. She uncovered him and he shivered when the chilled air of the room hit his sweat soaked skin. He was still unsteady on his feet and though he wouldn’t admit to it he was grateful for the stability she offered. The room spun as she led him up some stairs. At the top there was a large tub filled with steaming water. “You’ll feel better if you’re clean she stated simply” and guided him so that he was sitting on the edge of it. Pulled his shirt over his head and didn’t gawk or comment on his scars, but he noticed the way she wetted her lips just a little before she looked away. He smirked just a little, this girl was supposed to be holy, a sweet, pure little thing, but she looked a little guilty as she folded his shirt and placed it on the ground. Then she kneeled, and all sense he’d had before vanished. It was a heady sensation, seeing her kneeling before him. He felt her working the laces of his boot before pulling it off, left foot first then the right. She looked up then, her face unreadable, as she paused for a moment before speaking “Stand up”. Samson gripped her shoulder, pretending to steady himself as he took to his feet. Really he just wanted to loom over her, to have a good view of her and her next actions. Her hands, pale, strong but somehow still gentle undid the laces of his breeches and pulled them down over his hips, snagging his smallclothes with her fingertips and pulling them down his legs with the filthy breeches. His skin was stained and mottled with dirt, blood and fuck if knew what else. Yet she didn’t cringe away, he stepped slowly out of the pile of dirty rags and for a moment considered grabbing the back of her neck and forcing his half hard cock into her mouth and throat fucking the bitch until she blacked out. But then she stood suddenly and offered to help him get in the tub. He shook the thought from his mind and accepted the offered hand while he lowered himself into the hot water. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a hot bath. Maybe Kirkwall? The water soothed the soreness from his arms and legs. He heard her rummaging for something and turned to look at her. She was turned away from him and he found his gaze lingering on her backside. He remembered when they had fought initially; he’d been testing her skills. She’d been terrible, all sloppy footwork and inaccurate swings but damn it she was fast. She wasn’t hell bent on killing him either, and once she’d gotten behind him and swatted his ass with the flat of her sword. It was a taunt, a gesture to let him know that unskilled as she was she still could have had him. Now he was the one behind her and he wanted to reach over and return the gesture. Instead he settled for leering at her as she turned around, arms full with towels, soap and washcloths. 

She was scrubbing sick out of his hair with an earthy smelling soap when she spoke next “I’m sorry.” The apology was broad and confused him for a moment before she clarified. “I meant to return with you, to ensure that you were properly seen to. You weren’t meant to suffer here.” There was something heavy in her voice, was it guilt? 

“Oh? I take it things didn’t go to plan?” He asked as she rinsed the suds from his dark hair. She didn’t respond and he prodded “well? What happened girl?” 

“Red Templar ambush. Arrow caught me in the shoulder, I was down for a week.” She said wringing out the water from his hair and drying it with a towel. She moved to rise but Samson, much of his awareness restored snaked up grabbed the back of her neck with one hand and clamped the other one over her mouth to keep her from screaming and yanked her off balance and forward until she was face to face with him. His death grip on her neck and face the only thing from keeping her out of the water.

“I’m going to ask you some questions and you’re going to answer them. You scream I’ll put your face underwater and drown you” his voice was a low growl, “You understand me pretty thing?” She shivered and Samson grinned, “You like that don’t you,” he purred, the hand over her mouth dropping to her throat “You like being threatened. Being shown that someone else can take everything from you in a second.” He tightened his grip on her throat just enough to make her panic and release one side of the tub to try and loosen the hold. He shifted slightly so that when he did loosen her hand couldn’t find the edge again and she was forced to rest her wayward hand on him. He couldn’t stop the shudder that ripped through his body when her hand, soft and warm alighted on his damp chest hair. He instinctively pulled her closer to him “Who told you where to find us?”

“I promised Maddox that if he told me where to find you I would help you. That I wouldn’t kill you,” she said, her hair and skin smelled like a heady blend of mountain air, lavender and vanilla. “I did it as much to save you as I did to save him. He’d poisoned himself to protect you.”

Samson shook his head and looked away from her gaze “The bloody fool I told him not to.” Then looking back at her angrily “So you lied to a tranquil, just like everyone else.”

Rachel shook her head “I meant every word, I still do. I want to help, you, Maddox, and any Red Templars that can still be helped. You don’t have to fight and die for Corephyus.”

“So what we fight and die for the Inquisition instead” he sneered at her pulling her closer, he could see flecks of gold and brown in her green eyes she was so near.

“You fight and die for nobody. People make mistakes, Templars are trained from youth to follow orders and sometimes those orders are bad, or lead to bad places.” Rachel said quietly. Samson wondered if she realized her hand was stroking his chest hair, he didn’t care, it felt good. “You made a Tranquil man feel something” her voice held nothing back “You gave hopeless men something to fight for, you gave the lost a path, even if the destination wasn’t Rivane. I’m not asking you or your men to die under my banner; I’m asking you not to die at all. Let me help, let me at least try.” Try. It was more than anyone else had wanted to do for him in a long time. It was more than he’d wanted for himself. “Please”.

The simple word was too much. His cock was already hard under hot water; and the way she whispered the word in that husky voice, somewhere between begging and demanding, threw him over the edge. He pulled her into a bruising, frustrated kiss. It was sloppy, angry and when she didn’t immediately return it he shifted his grip and pressed his thumb into the joint of her haw forcing it open so he could invade her mouth. When his tongue touched hers she stiffened and he prepared to hold on if she tried to pull away. He wouldn’t go too far but he just couldn’t let go yet. She tasted so sweet, like summer. She didn’t pull away though. As if she suddenly realized what was happening she came to life, responded to him. Her other arm abandoned trying to steady her against the other side of the tub and wrapped across the back of his shoulders. She pressed into the kiss and he let his hand slide from the back of her neck down. Down the middle of her back tracing her spine, all the way to her ass, which he gripped hard. Rachel moaned into the kiss, Samson pulled a little harder and her fully clothed body slipped into the hot water on top of him. She didn’t struggle, didn’t fuss just slid her hands into his hair and changed the angle that her mouth slanted over his. Samson slipped his calloused hands up underneath her shirt, gripping the edges of the soaked material and with some maneuvering managed to pull it up to her shoulders. He broke the kiss then to strip the garment from her body and toss it to places unknown where it landed with a wet slapping sound, closely followed by her breast band. 

The cool air lapped her breasts and hardened her nipples and Rachel was suddenly all too aware that he was staring at her. She knew she was a hell of a sight. Covered in cuts, scars and bruises. She wasn’t slender like other women around Skyhold; she was thick cut from a combination of muscle and good food her breasts and belly too large for her tiny height. She was suddenly self conscious and wrapped an arm around her breasts and another as much of her body as she could manage and looked away, her face turning what she was sure was a horrible shade of scarlet. She shut her eyes tight and waited for him to start laughing.

Samson kept staring, but what he saw was quite different than what she did. Her body held scars the way pages in a book held words. And he was good at reading scars. A single jagged line from shoulder to shoulder? Templar move, used to cut a mage’s staff in half, she must have taken it protecting one. The large grouping of holes on her right shoulder? Arrows, a combination of smooth and rough outlines meant crossbow bolts and standard, multiple fights most likely. The two thin scars on her side; just out of reach of her arm? Those were from a long, thin dagger, likely an assassination attempt. Judging by the placement the first would have sliced clean through a lung, the second through her kidney. He reached out and took hold of her wrists and pulled her arms away from her body. His jaw tightened when he saw it. Long and wide, paled from time, from her clavicle to her left hip, a long continuous scar. That was one he knew well. It was another Templar move, a killing blow; used on resisting apostates, maleficar and mages who failed their harrowing. It was almost always fatal and was never used on non-mages unless they were fighting for the mage. Her eyes were still tightly shut, her cheeks a devastating, glow of pink that extended down her neck. He could feel her shaking, and placed both his hands on her back and drew her, chest first to him and devoured one of her plump breasts. The shock of the sudden sensation forced a breathy squeak from her and she pressed her fingertips into his taught shoulders he grinned wickedly against the pliant flesh and rolled the sensitive peaked between his tongue and teeth. He felt her arch into him, shifting restlessly against him. He slipped one hand up to the other breast and teased it, pinching and rolling the nipple with his thumb and forefinger. He pulled away from her chest to smirk at her “Look at you” he said, lazily leaning backwards and tracing the outline of a nipple with his forefinger “the holy Herald of Andraste, whimpering and moaning under the touch of a sworn enemy.”

“I’m not” she shuddered as a fingernail scraped lightly over the sensitive tip “Don’t call me-“ she cut herself off with low moan and gave up trying to converse.

He chuckled at how undone she was and laid a few more lazy kisses along her mouth and jaw. “Get up” up he, said finally “We’re taking this somewhere less damp”. She was the one who needed help now, her flushed cheeks and passion-dizzied head throwing her slightly off balance. Samson wrapped one of the soft towels around his hips and stared at the Inquisitor “Well? Are you just going to stand there all night in soaked pants and smalls? Strip you silly girl, you’re already mostly there”. His voice was gruff, impatient. His baser nature looked at her now with her clinging pants and bare chest and wanted nothing more than to bend her over the nearest flat surface and fuck her raw. It had been so long since he’d wanted a particular woman, and not simply satisfaction. He wanted to slam his name out of her mouth in gasps and screams. He wanted to force himself into every part of her, consume her, and know her. Know every line, every inch of skin, and every mewling sound that came out of that throat. He couldn’t take anymore waiting and started toward her just as she reached for the laces of her pants. That is when he saw her hands shaking. He placed his own upon them, his were hot and hers were cold. He wanted to tear her apart, but instead he kissed her forehead. “Meet me on that couch of yours when you’re done” he whispered in her ear, his voice full of dark promise “you won’t regret it”. Then he was gone and Rachel stood there, shivering in the cool air of her tower room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samson and the Inquisitor start this affair in earnest.

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting; he’d born witness to the Inquisitor’s surprising nature before. Watched as her people spread across Southern Thedas, cleaning up and providing for the wounded and destitute left in the wake of war and struggle. He’d studied her troop movements and reports on her. Studied countless sketches of her in different armor and casual dress so he would know her anywhere. Whatever it was that he had been expecting it bloody well wasn’t the woman who came down those stairs. 

She stood before him now, naked as the day she was born, golden hair flowing freely. Cascading in waves to brush the top of her hips. In every picture, every sighting, every description nobody had prepared him for this. Suddenly she wasn’t some wildcat on the field of battle, she wasn’t the Inquisitor. She was the daughter of a Free Marcher noble family and damn if she didn’t look the part. She stood there, her insecurity gone or well-hidden for the moment and didn’t falter. She stayed put when he stood from his lounging spot on the couch and walked over to her. Stood stock still when he began circling her slowly, viewing her as though she was a statue made of find stone. He remembered seeing women like her in Kirkwall. They’d pass by in The Gallows tittering about love charms and fashion. They spent more money in a day than Samson would have seen in his lifetime and complained about things others would have killed to experience just once. He couldn’t keep the resentment he’d felt then out of his voice “Always wanted to fuck a noble bitch back in The Marches.” he seethed as he continued his slow circling, reaching out to trace a calloused palm across the skin of her soft abdomen “People back home always say they’re better. Say they’re tighter, wetter and hotter when you’ve got ‘em bucking under you. They say noble girls taste sweeter when you lick ‘em. I wonder if you’ll really taste that much better if I sink my tongue into that cunt of yours. Or will you be the same as every common lass in The Marches?” He’d come full circle once more to look at her face; she met his eyes when he made a humming sound “What do you think? Have men fallen to their knees before you and told you you’re sweeter than honey?” his voice was edged with mockery and it sent a shiver down her spine.

“No.” Her reply was simple, straight, more honest than he would have expected from a noble girl. No trace of coyness or false modesty was anywhere to be found in her. The simple word left her lips slightly pouted, she likely didn’t even notice, but he certainly did.

His eyes lingered on that mouth of hers for an extra few moments before he reached for her neck, his hands gentler than meant them to be and drew her closer to him. “Let’s find out then shall we?” his breath was hot against ear and slowly he sank to his knees in front of her, sliding his rough hands down her body at and agonizing pace. Pausing to lick, kiss and lightly bite every spot that had made her shiver or sigh when his hands brushed over it.

He used his forefinger to swipe across her folds and felt his cock bounce when he felt how wet she was. “Well they’re right about the wet part,” Samson said wickedly as he slid the digit along her slit again, enjoying the shudder that ran through her “I’ve barely touched you and already your body is begging for me.” He stroked her a third time, before placing his hands on her hips, ducking his head burying his tongue into her core and dragging it along her sex. Thankful for the cry she let out; it stifled the self-defeating moan he released against her flesh. She was, indeed, sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted and he wanted more, he wanted it all. He continued his assault on her body and could feel her legs begin to shake, felt her hands tangle in his lank hair, he found the sensitive bundle of nerves he was looking for and flicked the tip of his tongue across it. The woman above him let out a shriek of pleasure and bucked into his mouth wildly; lost her footing, and for a glorious moment the most powerful woman in Thedas was completely in his control. Samson continued to hold her up as his tongue laved across the sensitive nub again. She didn’t shriek this time, instead she made a muffled moaning sound and Samson pulled away to look at the Inquisitor. 

The hand that had been in his hair now gripped his shoulder, nails digging into it, the other was so tightly clasped over her mouth that the areas where her fingers pressed were white. Her eyes were scrunched closed and if he watched carefully he could almost see the slight quiver of her body as she waited for his next wave of attack. Never one to disappoint he slid one finger, then two into her, pulling another moan, he continued these motions, brushing her clit with his thumb every few thrusts. She grew comfortable with the predictable yet pleasurable rhythm and loosened the hand across her mouth allowing the moans to come uninhibited. When she finally dropped the hand from her mouth altogether Samson curled his fingers at the end of a thrust and dragged them down her inner walls until he found the soft, spongy spot buried deep inside and pressed hard into it. He found the result incredibly arousing.

Her mouth fell open in a shocked, silent scream and her knees buckled. He withdrew his fingers as she sagged against the arm he had wrapped around her waist when he felt her buckle. The look of shock mixed with pure pleasure painted across her features pushed him right to the edge. She had been his enemy for three years yet here she was, in his arms looking at him wantonly with flushed cheeks and panting breaths. It was enough to drive him to the edge of sanity, let alone control.

He surged to his feet catching her legs around his waist and carried her to the bed, which he threw her on with as little grace or dignity as he could manage. He climbed on top of her and straddled her chest. Before Rachel could react or process what was happening Samson had grabbed a fistful of her golden hair and forced her mouth open to shove his hard cock inside. He slammed in hard and deep the first time, and reveled in the clenching at the back of her throat and the obscene gagging noise she instinctually made. He pulled out most of the way before thrusting back in, though not as far. “What do you think of this Inquisitor?” he said a few thrusts later. “Tell me, do I taste like your tittering nobles say all low born men taste?” he pulled out of her mouth and watched her struggle to catch her breath for a moment. Then he dismounted from his position above her to kneel beside her and pulled her to her knees in front to him by her hair and shoulder, trying to ignore the fact that it felt like a handful of silk more than hair “Tell me” he said giving her a single firm shake. Her lips were swollen and just barely parted, eyes half lidded and her chest was rising and falling quickly. 

“I don’t know” she replied in stuttered breaths.

“You don’t know” he sneered “Never stooped to that level before?”

“I’ve never tasted any man” she replied

“Not one? Not even your precious commander?” Samson grinned mockingly, trying to hide his anger at the idea of Cullen the golden boy having a woman like this on her knees before him. The Inquisitor met his eyes with a hard look that made him smirk. “Too good for such a base act my lady?”

“Lack of opportunity” her reply was an intriguing mix of breathless and eager.

A horrible thought occurred to Samson that made him grimace “Maker’s flaming ass you’re not. . .” he was not the kind of man to tenderly introduce a girl to lovemaking. What he did, what he was good at, what he enjoyed and wanted was carnal and lustful. It left bruises, scratches, and bite marks. 

“Untouched? No, but it has been a long time. Men don’t exactly line up to fuck the leader of a holy order” She rolled her eyes at the statement. It seemed the Inquisitor resented her own position, or at least a part of it. 

“Good.” Samson said, a wicked, wolfish grin spreading across his face “I hate waiting in line.” Her expression was unreadable for the briefest of moments before is spread into a sultry smile.

“Does that mean I get to taste you for more than ten strokes?” her tone was filled with unspoken desire and sent a shiver down his spine. She leaned closer to him and placed a warm, wet kiss on his neck and felt the rumble of his reply.

“So many more” he groaned as her teeth grazed over his pulse. He turned his head into her and pulled her up for another kiss, open-mouthed and heated. He was trying to place the taste of her and couldn’t. It was Rachel who finally broke the kiss, and started working her way down his body, the same way he’d worked down hers, but instead of exploring with her hands she did it with her tongue. She used his scars as guides, finding the places between that were still sensitive to the flick of a tongue or nip of teeth. When she finally reached his cock he was as rock hard as ever he was. For a moment he thought she would need his hand in her hair for encouragement but she didn’t, although it ended up buried in the thick golden strands anyway. The Inquisitor sucked him with noisy abandon, the slick sound of her mouth sliding along his shaft made his hips buck upwards hard. She pulled away the first time and he growled in frustration, the hand in her hair tightening as he fought the urge to flip her over and fuck her throat until it was raw. Until all she tasted and smelled was him. She took him in her mouth again and he didn’t stop himself from thrusting upwards, again she pulled away but not as far. She was testing herself, he realized as a shudder ran through his body when she descended a third time and took his shaft deeper than the previous time. The muscles of her throat contracted and he could feel her choke as she pulled back, slower this time, more deliberate, and then she returned to sliding that hot, sweet mouth of hers back down his cock without it ever leaving. He let out a hoarse laugh, “You learn fast Inquisitor,” he said looking down at her. She made for a hell of a sight lying on her stomach between his legs. She sucked hard as she pulled all the way back, his cock slipping from between her lips with a loud popping sound. She looked him square in the eye and grinned. “I didn’t say stop.” His voice was full of sarcasm and spurred the reaction he wanted she dropped her mouth open in mocked indignation. He seized the opportunity and forced her mouth back onto his hard length pressing her all the way down until her face was flush with his pelvis. “Gods above” he growled as his head fell back, reveling in the feeling of her throat clenching around his length, savoring the way her nails dug into his thighs. He could feel her struggle and held on a moment longer, depriving her of just enough air to make her head spin when he swiftly pulled her up.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her down to the mattress below, coming to rest his own weight on top of her. He pushed her hair from her face and took in the lovely sight. Her face flushed, lips swollen, breasts rising and falling rapidly. He nuzzled the crook of her neck, his whiskers against her sensitive skin making her shiver. “You’re good, so good” he trailed a hand down the valley between her breasts, over her stomach and down to the wet folds of her pussy and slipped a finger insider of her, the heel of his hand grinding deliciously against her clit, and making her moan wantonly. Samson chuckled darkly “And so, so bad” he suddenly added a second finger and she bucked underneath him, crying as he shifted his hold on her soaked cunt to rub her clit with the pad of his thumb. Her hands tangled in his hair now and as he teased her breast with his free hand, circling her nipple before pinching it hard enough to make her cry out before soothing it again. All the while whispering in her ear all the filthy things he was going to do to her body. He felt her body shudder, her walls clamped around his fingers and he devoured her mouth when she finally screamed her release.


End file.
